


Scars, Dirt and Doghair

by mollynoble



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Explicit Language, M/M, Meet-Cute, Panic Attack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smoking, Veteran Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollynoble/pseuds/mollynoble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life has been rough for Barnes and Barton. It's been one raw deal after another, but they have survived and now want to use their experience to help others. Which is how they both end up in Introduction to Social Work, 250. Well Barnes' is here, Barton's running late...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The specific way Barnes PTSD manifests in this story is based on my own symptoms. Everyone who experiences PTSD does so differently. 
> 
> I couldn't have done this with out the help of the lovely sleepwalkerindreamersclothing and madetobeworthy, thanks for the help and encouragement friends.

The wind was sharp and biting as Barnes walked across campus. Not that he noticed, he was focused on finding the right building. Once he had, it took only a minute to find his classroom. He glanced down at his watch, he was a full half hour early. 

_Oh well._

Being 15 minutes early for 15 minutes early was a hard habit to break. Luckily there wasn’t a class in session in the room so he could go in, sit, and get out of the wind.

He hesitated just inside of the door, he wanted to sit in the back corner where his back would be to the wall and he could keep an eye on the exit. But this wasn’t some bullshit general education class, this was part of his core curriculum and he wanted to be up front where he could connect better with the professor. He settled on a compromise, right up front but at the end of the row so he could turn his chair and still have a decent view of the room. He set his pack down by his feet, pulling a notebook and a pen out, placing them on the desk before him.

Sitting there, fiddling with his phone, he watched the door as other students started to filter in. The more the classroom filled up the more Barnes’ stomach dropped. It was all girls, it wasn't particularly unsettling that they were all female but they looked so young. He had known, intellectually, that he would be nearly a decade older than most college students, but he hadn't really thought about it. Then it got worse, the professor came in with a smile and a “good afternoon”, another woman who was closer to his age but only barely. He knew what he looked like, his hair long and in his face, he hadn’t cut it since he got out. His scruff, he didn’t bother with shaving daily anymore now that he didn’t have to. His sweatshirt declared Glock to be a superior brand of firearm. His Oakley sunglasses perched on the top of his head, and the fact that his pack at his feet was military issue, it still had dirt from Afghanistan on it for christ-sakes, couldn’t make it any more obvious that he was a veteran. He was glaringly out of place.

“Alright everybody.” the professor had a carrying voice at least; Barnes hated having to strain to hear soft speakers, “We’ll go ahead and give any stragglers some more time before we get started since it’s the first night.”

Barnes glanced down at his watch, two minutes past. The other students chattered and laughed. Clearly at least some of them knew each other or maybe they were just those naturally social types. He kept his eyes glued to his phone. He was just refreshing his email, trying to look busy to make it easier to avoid eye contact. A few more girls came in and found seats.

“Okay, let’s get started. First off is everyone in the right place? Introduction to Social Work, 250?” 

There was a pause while everyone nodded or murmured an affirmative. Barnes just continued to stare at the professor, he knew he was in the right place, he did his recon, he did not make amateur mistakes like end up in the wrong classroom. 

“Good, so if you’re in this class you're most likely a social work major, is anyone not?” another pause, this time no one spoke up. “Great so now let’s do some introductions. I’d like everyone to share their name, a fun fact about yourself and why you want to be a social worker. Surely you’re not doing it for the money so there has to be something that drew you to this field and I’d love to know it. Let’s start in the back and work forward.”

Tiffany, Amber, Karen, Anita, Maria, Natalie then they started to blur together. A room full of girls wanting to help disadvantaged kids. Over and over, “I want to work with children.” Or “I want to work in a school with kids.” Barnes chewed on his lip, this was good, he knew there were kids who needed help. He knew intellectually that the foster care system wasn’t great, that it needed these bright young women. But he couldn’t help but realize he really didn’t have any common ground with anyone here.

**Bang**

Everyone turned to look when door slammed open, which luckily meant no one saw Barnes jerk and reach to his thigh for a gun that wasn’t there.

“Sorry, sorry, there was a dog” 

Barnes, as well as the rest of the class, stared at this guy. Dirty blond hair sticking up all over the place, face flushed and panting as he scrambled to the front of the class. 

“Sorry,” he panted, “I really meant to be on time. I left early and everything.”

He dropped into a seat in the front row, giving more apologies in one long rambling breath, “Sorry I’m here okay sorry carry on.” He pulled a rolled up notebook out of his baggy sweatshirt and a pen out of the pocket of his jeans, ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before and beamed at the professor.

Barnes' irritation at being startled faded in the face of such genuine happiness. This guy was the most cheerful looking person Barnes had seen in a long time.

“Right, welcome Mr…” the professor trailed off.

“Clint Barton” the guy, Barton, supplied “again, so sorry”

“That’s alright Mr. Barton, since it’s the first class, just in the future if being late is unavoidable if you could try and make your entrance a tad less dramatic that would be appreciated.”

“Right, yeah okay.” Barton winced.

“So. We were doing introductions Mr. Barton and it looks like it’s your turn.”

Barnes looked away from Barton’s hands, that were fidgeting with his pen, to look around. He realized while he had been moping about not fitting in they had made it through the whole class already. It would have been his turn next if not for Barton’s interruption.

“We know your name, but how about an interesting fact about yourself and why you want to be a social worker.” the professor finished.

“Okay,” he straightened and half turned in his chair to face more of the class. “Hey, I’m Clint.” he gave a little wave and his grin was somewhere between amused and embarrassed. “Uhh.. a fact about me, well I guess I’m an archer. Well I mean I know I am an archer, pretty good too, like I compete and win and stuff but I guess that's interesting. I guess...” His rambling petered out.

There was an amused snort, and it took Barnes a second to realize it had come from him. Barton turned his head and their eyes met. Bartons expression went from unsure to shit-eating grin in a flash, his eyes bright with amusement. With more than a little shock, Barnes realized he was smiling as well. Just a small upturn of the corner of his mouth but even that much was rare for him. There was a moment where they just stared at each other before Baron looked down at his desk. 

“Right, anyways, uh I want to be a social worker cause me and my brother grew up in the system, which failed my bro spectacularly, but worked out for me, kinda, but mostly just dumb luck got me this far, and I uh wanna try and do better by other little shit-heads than was done for me, yeah so that's it.”

This was delivered with his eyes glued to his desk, while he rubbed the back of his neck. When he finished, he looked back up at the professor with a small, self conscious smile. Barnes couldn't help but be impressed and a little awed. This wasn't some naïve dream to save the world's children, but a genuine mission. Barnes could respect that. Not only that but that was a lot of honesty and vulnerability to just throw out there in a room of strangers.

He was still staring at the side of Barton’s head when he, and the professor, turned to look at him.

_Oh shit._

Barton and himself were the only two in the front row, which meant it was his turn to go. He could feel the eyes of the whole class on him. But more importantly Barton was looking him right in the eye, an encouraging smile on his face. At the beginning of this Barnes had planned to be as vague and quick as possible. But after Barton’s, admittedly rambling, but truly candid speech, and with him only a few feet away looking right at him Barnes felt like he needed to match the authenticity. So, with a deep breath in, he turned his head to fix his eyes on a spot on the wall near the back of the class.

“My names Barnes, I’m Marine veteran, I was medically discharged in 2013.” Another deep breath, “My PTSD got the best of me a year ago, which landed me in court mandated counseling. That may have been one of the best things to happen to me. My counselor changed my life and that’s what I want to do. Help vets.”

Barnes cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and risked a glance at Barton’s face. His smile was wobbling and his eyes were shining. Barnes jerked his eyes down to his lap, he was already feeling shaky from the whole, tell a bunch of strangers I’m crazy reveal, there was no way he could handle that much emotion on Barton’s face. 

_Fuck, Barnes you’re a goddamn combat vet don't you dare fucking tear up right now_

While Barnes was busy talking to himself the professor had started going over the syllabus. He only listened with a half an ear, he had already printed it off the school website and read it thoroughly. In fact, it was neatly folded and tucked into his notebook with the particularly important information highlighted. Now that the attention was off of him and he was able to calm down he risked glancing back up at Barton. He was scribbling notes with a look of concentration on his face, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Then he muttered quietly,

“Aww, pen no.”

Barton looked up from where he was scribbling his pen frantically, and whipped his head around to look at Barnes, who was caught staring again. Then he grabbed his stuff and shuffled over a seat, and then another until he was sitting in the desk next to Barnes, who watched his approach in what he would never admit to being terror.

Leaning in, so close Barnes could smell coffee on his breath, Barton whispered,

“Do you have an extra pen?” He gave his, which was purple, a little wave as if to show its failure.

Barnes just stared at him until Barton quirked an eyebrow.

Barnes jerked around to grab his pack and reach into it. Barton chuckled. While the professor had tried to ignore Barton’s moving, she paused in her explanation of what kind of sources would need to be cited in their research paper to look at them now. 

“Sorry, my pen died” Barton explained. He waved his pen again, this time in the professor's direction. 

The professor sighed and resumed. Barnes kept looking in his pack, even though he knew exactly where his pens were.

_Always plan for failure, bring extra supplies._

Barnes finally figured he could only “look” for a pen for so long so he turned back and offered a plain black one to Barton who smiled bright and genuine.Barnes’ stomach did a funny swooping clenching thing. Well, that explained it, why he had been so honest earlier, why he kept getting caught staring, why he had yet to manage to say a direct word to this man next to him. Barnes hadn’t fallen this hard this fast in a long time. But here he was, watching as Clint took notes, his tongue back to poking out, dog-hair covering his hoodie, and smelling of coffee. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this chapter took. I had family visiting, which was lovely but cut into fandom time. Thank you to the amazing Arcee and Rachel who once again beta'd for me.

Clint could feel hot veteran dude looking at him. He couldn't resist taking a quick look or the help his smirk at how fast sexy stubble guy looked away. This day was going great. Afternoon classes were the best. He got to to sleep in, and then he met an awesome dog on his way. And yeah he was late to class, but whatever, it was the first one. Nothing important ever happened on the first day, it was usually just going over the stupid syllabus thingy. 

_Like who reads those things anyways?_

And yeah, his favorite pen had died, but now he got to sit next to a smoking hot guy who kept checking him out. Well, hopefully checking him out, it was possible Clint was reading too much into all the staring. He thought there had been a moment there when Hot Guy had looked at him after talking about wanting to help other vets. He totally understood wanting to help people who were losing the same battle you had fought. Clint may have teared up a bit, so sue him, his emotions were close to the surface. 

“Okay, any questions on the paper before we move on?” Clint shrugged to himself, a research paper was a research paper right? He’d figure it out, he always did. Only one thing really mattered, how long he had to procrastinate on writing it before frantically pulling an all-nighter. He looked down at his sparse notes.

_Oops._

Of course he hadn't caught the due date and the professor was already going on about the reading schedule and the importance of keeping up with it. A glance to his left showed that Hot Guy had a whole bunch of neatly written words on his paper, he looked like he would know. 

“Hey, when was that paper thingy due?” He’d leaned in and made sure to whisper, no reason to make the professor any more annoyed with him this early on. 

Hot veteran guy twitched and leaned away. Clint felt an immediate rush of guilt. He was so dumb, this guy had said he had PTSD and now Clint's dumb ass was invading his personal space. Before he was able to apologize, and probably make an even bigger fool of himself, veteran guy slid his paper closer to Clint and circled a section. The due date for the paper. Well, at least that answered his question. He copied it down and then looked up, his smile only a little strained, to say thanks when he saw the blush on Hot Guy’s cheeks. Clint's smile grew, but he kept his voice pitched low.

“Thanks man, your handwriting is super neat. Mine’s a mess.”

_Perfect, real smooth man, compliment his handwriting, you’re such an idiot._

He braced himself for the look of disgust, or maybe he’d get lucky and it would just be confusion. But a miracle happened, Hot Guy went from rosy cheeks to a full on blush and actually looked pleased and flattered. The only explanation was that this guy never got compliments to let that pathetic excuse of praise to affect him. And then Hot Guy cleared his throat twice, before getting out a mummered “sure” then ducking his head back down and returning to his note taking.

Clint spent the next ten minutes not listening to a word on how to deal with having an old edition of the required textbook. Instead he was busy alternating between floating on cloud nine over the successful start to flirting and stressing about where to go from here. Should he suggest going for coffee? No, too soon. Ask some more questions about the paper thingy? Naw, don’t want to look like too much of an idiot. Then the professor interrupted his musing on how to ask out hotty. 

“Right, so we’ll call it a day then. Please read chapter one and be prepared to discuss by Thursday. Also start thinking about topics for your paper. I do recommend finding someone to study with.” 

Today really was going great for him. Here was a perfect excuse to get Hot Guy’s number.

 _Wait, what was his name?_

Clint wasn’t great at remembering names but Hot Guy had said his when he introduced himself. Justifiably Clint had been distracted by the rough, scratchy voice. However, while “hot guy” was accurate, it was a little objectifying. 

_Well only one way to find out._

“Hey, man, what was your name again?”

Hot Guy looked up from putting his notebook into his backpack. He looked unsure when he met Clint’s eyes. There was a pause, and Clint started to wonder if he’d done something dumb again. 

“Barnes.” Hot Guy finally answered, in that voice that was going to mean trouble for Clint’s ability to think straight. 

_Heh, straight, I’m hilarious._

After another long pause it appeared that was all Barnes was going to say. So it looked like the conversational heavy lifting would be up to Clint. Just as well, most of his ex’s complained he couldn't shut up.

“Right, so, I’m Clint.” He offered his hand. Handshakes were a good start, that's how introductions worked right?

Hot Guy - Barnes, his name was Barnes - took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. His hand was warm and callused, and then the squeeze ended and turned into a lingering clasp before Barnes slowly pulled his hand away. Clint had never experienced such a sensual handshake and he barely managed not to swoon. Something must have shown on his face because the uncertainty left Barnes’ face and his lip twitched in what might have been called a smile if one was feeling generous.

“Anyhows, um your phone would be awesome. For the study, the lady said study buddies, right, yeah so…” Clint petered out.

_Well that could have gone better._

But it really was Clint’s lucky day because another miracle happened. Barnes wasn't running away or horrified by Clint’s word vomit. In fact, he was doing the little lip twitch not quite a smile thing again and his eyes were definitely amused.

“Sure, good idea. Here.” he paused to pull his phone out of his pocket, unlock the screen and hand it over, “Put your number in.”

“Great!” Clint managed to put his name and number into the phone without dropping it and handed it back. Barnes typed for a moment and then Clint's phone vibrated in his back pocket.

“There, that’s me. Maybe we can study together sometime.” 

“Great, that’d be great. I'd love to study, studying is great.” Clint caught himself before he started rambling too bad. 

“Okay.” 

There was a pause while they stood there looking at each other. Clint suspected his grin was ridiculous. Then he had an excellent idea.

“I don't actually have my book yet so I’m gonna have a heck of a time reading the chapter before Thursday. Maybe we could meet up for a bit and I could borrow yours?”

“Sure, we could get together tomorrow if you have time round 10 hundred.” At this point most of the other students had left, except for two chicks from the row behind them who had had some question for the professor so there wasn’t much of an audience for Clint successfully managing to get a date, which was a damn shame.“You know the coffee place right off campus, cafe something?” Barnes asked.

 _Except...meeting to study doesn't really count as a date._

“Yeah, yeah for sure, they're the place with the huge muffins right? That place is great.”

“It’s called Café et de L'amour, it’s French.” The voice came from behind Clint, the chicks were apparently done talking to the professor. The tall brunette, who obviously worked out, was looking at Barnes. Clint was tempted to tell her to step off, he had dibs on hotty, then he noticed the fact she had her arm around the curvy redhead’s waist. “It means coffee and love.” smirked the redhead. Leggy brunette snorted then winked at him before they strutted off.

Cint turned back to see Barnes flush and scramble to zip up his backpack and sling it onto his back. 

_Maybe a date after all._

“Right, so does 10 work for you?” Barnes mumbled.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be there, you bring the textbook and I’ll bring my charming personality.”

“Okay, bye.” and just like that Barnes turned and left. While being slightly disappointed the conversation was over, Clint couldn't help but admire the view of him walking away. Clint was grinning ear to ear as he left the classroom more slowly. Got to pet a dog and a date with a total hotty. Today was awesome. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm mollynoble over at tumblr, feel free to come by and love on winterhawk with me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry this update took so long, but here it is. Thanks go to Arcee for the beta and to Hrafnsvaengr and Rachael for the cheerleading.

Barnes’ alarm went off with a light trill of bells. His eyes opened and his body tenced. He’d woken up ready to fight for years now, he wasn't sure he’d ever wake up slowly again. He didn't immediately roll out of bed and start some cliche workout and it wasn't the crack of dawn. He had no interest in keeping that shit up now that he didn't have to. But his body was programed to be ready as soon as it woken. These days it was his quiet alarm, not drill instructors yelling, the sound of reveille or gunny screaming “Oscar Mike fuckheads”. Regardless of how he was roused he was flooded with adrenalin; though now he got to roll over stretch out and take a moment before rising. 

Which is when he remembered, the guy, Barton, he was supposed to meet him later. Barnes groaned and ran his hand over his face before climbing out of bed and striding into the bathroom. He bypassed the mirror and walked straight into the shower stall, hugging the back wall to avoid the cold spray. Once it was an acceptable temperature he ducked his head under the water. Standing there washing his hair, he pondered the previous day. Thank god they hadn’t gone over anything that wasn’t on the syllabus since he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything besides Barton. Obviously he was good looking, but toss in clumsy goofy mess and top it off with disarming honesty and Barnes was a gonner. 

_Get it together, you don’t even know if he likes guys, let alone damaged, scarred up ones._

It was with that thought that he finished up and shut off the water. No point in standing around wallowing in self pity. He dried off briskly, walking back into the bedroom to pull on clothes. Once he was dressed he returned to the bathroom to comb out his hair and brush his teeth. It was only like this - fully dressed - that he was able to look in the mirror. His counselor, Rogers, assured him with enough time he would come to accept his body, but he didn't see that happening any time soon. However he had been right about a lot of other stuff, so Barnes figured he’d trust him on that one. Rogers was the inspiration for Barnes to stop wasting his time sitting in his apartment and getting shitfaced at the bar and actually put his GI Bill to use. He had put it bluntly “You got blown the fuck up for this government Barnes, use their goddam money to get yourself a fucking education, even if for no other reason to spite the fuckers.” So here he was, working his way through a degree and slowly but surely getting his shit together. 

Ready as he was going to get, he shoved his textbook into his pack and headed out the door. It was way too early but he knew if he didn't leave now he would start overthinking and end up talking himself out of going. Besides he could read the chapter himself before Barton got there so they wouldn’t have to try and read it at the same time.

It was only a short drive from his apartment to campus but it took him more than a few minutes to find a spot near the cafe. Once he had finished parking he figured it would be better to just go in now, get some good recon, find the best spot, and wait. It was a weekday morning and this place was popular so it was full of customers, most of whom looked to be students. Barnes waited in line, keeping his eye on the exits and the crowd. 

Coffee in hand, he settled at a table in the corner, it had the best lines of sight and he was able to put his back to the wall. A glance at his watch showed he had just over an hour before Barton arrived. No reason not to put the time to use, he pulled out the textbook and opened it. He liked to be thorough so he started with the forward and author's notes; just because it wasn't assigned didn’t mean it wasn't good to read it as well. Once he got the the beginning of the first chapter he pulled out his notebook so he could write down his notes. It was tempting to put in his earbuds and listen to music but it would make him vulnerable. 15 minutes in he was ready to admit defeat, there was a reason he never studied in public places, he was massively distracted. It was impossible to focus and maintain an awareness of all the possible threats.

Snapping the book shut he took a moment to self assess. Shoulders and jaw tense, heart rate up and breathing shallow, he was on the verge of a panic attack and hadn't even noticed. 

_Great, you goddamn headcase, can't even sit in a coffee shop without melting down._

Time for a tactical withdrawal and reassess. He slowly and deliberately returned his things to his pack and stalked to the door. The jeep was a safe and secure location. He sat in the driver's seat, locked the doors, cracked the driver window an inch, no more, and put the keys in the ignition so he would able to go mobile immediately. He glanced in the backseat confirming his go-bag was there then checked the locks again. As secure as he was going to get he reached to the glove box to grab the pack of cigarettes he kept stashed there for just this reason. He had quit for the most part but fuck it, a panic attack now was a more pressing concern than eventual lung cancer.

There was no denying the comfort found in giving in to the muscle memory. The crisp tap of the pack against the heel of his palm, the motion of extracting a single cigarette, holding it between his lips and lighting it. He didn't need to think about it, he didn't need to think about anything. Leaning his head back against the headrest, allowing his eyelids to shut halfway he just focused on the smoke filling his lungs. In, hold, release.

By the time the cigarette was done his heart rate had slowed, the tension was gone from his shoulders, and his mind had cleared. A few efficient motions had the lid off an empty soda bottle, the smoldering cigarette dropped in with his other butts, the lid back on, a quick shake to make sure it got wet and was extinguished and back into the cup holder. There was some serious consideration about just going home, but he’d told Barton he would meet him, the guy was counting on him to be there so he could read the chapter for class. Maybe it wasn't a date but he just because Barnes was a mess didn't mean he wasn't a man of his word. It just might take a minute to work his nerve up to get out of his jeep.

 _Fucking Christ you've been to war you can handle a coffee shop._

While he sat there preparing for his re-entry he observed Barton arrive. Walking down the sidewalk, a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. Barnes forgot to breath for a moment, this had to be an excellent sign, him showing up looking so happy to be here. Waiting for Barton to enter was the obvious choice, getting out now would make him look like a crazy guy who had been sitting waiting in his car, he’d give Barton some time then follow him in. With the best intention of giving it five minutes he found himself getting restless. Where had his discipline gone? He had laid in his own piss for hours waiting for a target to enter his sights but here he was giving in after only three minutes to follow Barton into the shop.

He had sat at the very same table Barnes had been at earlier, except in the opposite seat. Sitting there put his back to everything. Barnes couldn't help but shake his head, civilians, no sense of self-preservation. There was a moment of hesitation, should he get another coffee before going to sit? He’d already had one, more caffeine would just make him more jumpy. Making his decision he headed over to Barton.

Barton's purple hoodie was cleaner than it had been before but his hair was still a mess. His grin when he looked up at Barnes was infectious. 

“Hey! I thought you might like this spot best.” He gestured at the chair across from himself. 

_Huh, not so clueless._

Barnes sat, dropping his pack at his feet. Barton picking this seat for him meant that he was aware of how vulnerable the spot he placed himself in was. But more interestingly, was willing to put himself there in order to put Barnes at ease.

“Thanks.” It was insufficient but Barnes wasn't sure what else to say.

“Yeah man, no problem. I figure you've got my back better then I've got my own.” This was delivered with a careless shrug of his shoulders and a ducking of his head. He continued, “Anyways you want some coffee man I'm going to get some for myself?” and stood.

There was a pause while Barnes considered he'd already had coffee and didn't really want any more but didn't want to be rude and refuse the offer.

“Hot chocolate” he blushed the second the words left his mouth.

But Barton just grinned and said he'd be right back. While he watched him waiting in line he pulled his textbook out and tried his best to not look as nervous as he felt. He managed to survive the few minutes until Barton returned.

Barton was grinning as he presented a frankly ridiculously large cup topped with a mountain of whipped cream.

“Okay, now I’ve got coffee and here you go, some chocolatey goodness for Captain Grumpy Pants.”

“Sergeant, not Captain.” Barnes couldn't help the snark, he even managed to deliver it dry and with a straight face, he was pleased with himself when Barton tossed his head back and laughed.

“My bad man, Sergeant Grumpy Pants it is. Drink up your choco and hand me that textbook.”

Barton pulled his chair closer to his so they could both read at once. Barnes considered telling him he’d already started but decided to keep quiet when he felt the press of Barton's thigh on his. They settled in and studied, nudging one another with an elbow as they traded the occasional smirking joke. They worked, book open in front of them, occasionally pausing to get more coffee or a muffin. Their things spreading out, steadily eating up more and more of the table. 

Barnes’ face settled on an easy smile. It was right, somehow, this, being here. With the smell of coffee in the air, the taste of chocolate on his tongue, and the warmth of Barton against him it occurred this was the first time in a long time he actually felt hopeful for the future. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [mollynoble](http://mollynoble.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
